Freakishly Beautiful
by zombieapocolypse696
Summary: Jiraiya makes an unlikely friend during his travels, and she causes some interesting reactions within the village. Fem!Harry, Reincarnated. THERE WILL BE NO JIRAIYAxFEM!HARRY ROMANCE. Rated M for later and language. Vote for pairing. No poll, do it in reviews.
1. Chapter 1

…**...do I really need to do a disclaimer?**

* * *

Harry James Potter couldn't really say he was surprised at what happened. He had hoped it wouldn't, of course, for at least a few more years, but he had been expecting it somewhat. That was why, instead of screaming, or crying, or anything else a normal person would do in this situation, he just calmly took in his surroundings. He was in a basket. There was a building in front of him. It was a little cold.

For a few seconds, Harry thought that maybe he had been sent back in time. This was remarkably similar to how he was left at the Dursleys that fateful Halloween night all those years ago. That theory was immediately discarded when he read the sign hanging above the door of the concrete building. Or rather, looked at it, as it was written in a language that he couldn't read.

The door opened suddenly, and there was a startled shriek, followed by a giant face invading his personal space. Now, any _normal _person would have screamed, and wondered just how the hell people were suddenly so large. But not him. Oh no, he had a _very _good idea of what was going on. Closing his eyes, he called up the last image he had seen. Death, staring at him smugly with his arms crossed, a cruel smirk frmly planted on his face.

Death was such a child.

Really, he was basically throwing a tantrum because Harry jumped in front of a bus to save a kid that was apparently supposed to die that day. He never did grow out of that 'saving people thing'. According to Death, that cherubic little six year old would, if left unchecked, grow up to be the Muggle version of Voldemort. And since he really doesn't want to have to deal with all the paperwork of so many people dying before their time, he has to stage another accident for the boy.

And of course, as an immortal being of unimaginable power, that was too much effort.

So, with a mocking wave and a nasty little smile, Death decided to punish his foolish master for increasing his workload.

By turning him into an infant. Not the first time, this would actually be the fifth, and his second life in a different dimension than his original one. Though, the first one had been a malicious prank on Death's part, as Harry had been thrust into the infant body of his most hated fictional character. And he knew it was another dimension, as he knew every language ever spoken on Earth, and _that _was not one of them. Though it was slightly similar to Japanese.

While Harry was contemplating his situation and calling Death by as many mean names as he could think of, the giant face, attached to the equally large body of a graying middle-aged woman, had carried him into the building, which he now identified as an orphanage by the hordes of children running around.

Laying him on a table, the woman gently lifted him from the basket and checked his diaper. Harry just sighed. His first few rebirths, this had been his least favourite part of the process: having the actual clarity to remember people changing his diapers. As time went on, he just accepted it as part of his existence and resolved to shove the memories to a far corner of his mind once the phase was finished.

"Oh, what a pretty little girl you are!" The woman cooed. Harry froze. Death had made him...a girl this time. Oh that fucking asshole! It's not that he'd never been reborn a girl before, because he had, this would be the second time. The part that had him cursing Death to the deepest realms of purgatory was that he had to go through female puberty again! Boys never realize how good they have it until the start to menstruate.

* * *

Years later, very little had changed in Masaki Orphanage, located in a rural town in Tea Country. On the surface, it would appear to be an idyllic scene, the homey building placed directly in the middle of a field of flowers. Cliche, most definitely, but it served its purpose.

But, the orphanage had something to hide, the flowers being a part of it. Or rather, the inhabitants of the town did their very best to hide some_one _from prying eyes. A girl, found one day in front of the orphanage in a basket. The matron, Umeda Torune, had named her Masaki, for obvious, again very cliche, reasons.

It was obvious from the start that little Masaki was special. She rarely ever cried, never fussed, and possessed such intelligence that quite frankly it terrified the matron. In the early days, Masaki would just quietly stare at them whenever they spoke, it was honestly very unnerving. Then she started to speak, months before it was normal for a child to do so. Crawling followed, then walking, and she started to toddle into the older kids' reading and writing lessons. The teachers humored her with indulgent smiles, giving her paper and a brush, fully expecting the toddler to doodle with it and generally just make a mess.

Imagine their surprise when, upon collecting the papers for the day, they see that she, not even a year old, was doing better than the six to eight year olds in their class! But it didn't stop there, not by a long shot. People began to notice strange things happening around Masaki. It started out small, with her making a bird fly over to rest on her shoulder, or opening doors for people while across the room. As time passed, they got harder to brush off as coincidences.

Toys putting themselves away, Masaki suddenly appearing on the roof, floating lights entertaining the crying infants. Finally, what drove it all home in their minds that their little Masaki was something special, came the day she grew the flowers.

Before, there had been nothing here but an empty field. Not for lack of trying, just that the open space had never supported life beyond ugly weeds, and none of the flowers planted ever took root. One day, some of the older girls had been complaining loudly about having to go and pull the weeds, _again._ It seemed as if the day after you removed them, they would be back twice as tall for you to tackle again.

Masaki had looked up, annoyed at the interruption of her reading time, and lazily flicked a hand at the barren field through the window. Suddenly, all of those in the small village could feel something. None of them could tell you what, only that it felt like life, happiness, and sunshine. And the children watched in awe as the weeds melted away to reveal rich, healthy soil, that was soon hidden beneath vibrant colors as hundreds upon hundreds of flours erupted from the ground.

After that, well….no one ever questioned her abilities again. It was written off as a bloodline, a diverse and seemingly limitless one, but it helped them cope by putting a familiar name to something they couldn't comprehend.

For sixteen years, Masaki lived in that small village, content, showing off her 'kekkai genkai' by pulling miracles out of thin air for the children of the orphanage, where she decided to stay and work even after she came of age to leave.

Not long after her sixteenth birthday, the tranquil village was attacked.

* * *

Masaki panted as she ran through the burning wreckage of her childhood home, hoping against hope that she would find some survivors. She willed herself not to look at the burning corpses, and to focus on the task at hand. There would be time to grieve later, right now she had to focus.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she beat them back ruthlessly. She had thought that she would just stay here for the duration of this life. It's not like she had any need for adventure, that particular thirst could be sated by remembering all of the lives that had come before this one. Just once, a simple life would have been nice. But then, fate had never listened to her before, why would it start now?

For a moment, Masaki wanted to blame Death. But she knew that Death had no hand in this, he couldn't control the actions of the living to such an extent.

A sob was ripped out of her throat when she saw the sightless eyes of a toddler, staring at her from his place trapped under a table. A toddler that, just yesterday, had given her a flower with a big gap-toothed grin on his face.

Who was she kidding? Masaki sank to the floor and allowed the tears to slide freely down her cheeks. All of them were dead. She had left for all of three hours, just to let out some excess magic, far from where anyone could be harmed by the backlash.

When she got back, it was to the sight of her home being sacked by bandits, bodies littering the streets, and fire burning everywhere. She could hear the drunken laughter of the men, could smell the alcohol in the air, but she ignored it. She had to get to the orphanage and see if any of them were still alive. But none of them were. Are. None of them are alive.

So lost in her sorrow, Masaki failed to hear the crunching of boots approaching. She did hear, when one of the men slurred, "Ooohhh….we….we got a live one boys!" There were a few cheers, but mostly just grunts, too drunk to articulate actual words.

The lead man stumbled forward, grasping her chin roughly to angle her face for his inspection. "And she's a pretty one too!" Masaki had never really thought about her looks, they never really mattered much, beyond the few men in the village close to her age asking for a date.

She looked much like she had in her first life, ebony hair, emerald eyes, delicate bone structure. Though it has to be said, her size looks a lot better when she was a girl. Now she was described as 'delicate', when as a boy she had just been 'puny'. Masaki had allowed her hair to grow freely, never having gotten anything beyond a trim in her life. It sometimes got annoying, but it was worth it in her eyes for the beautiful, calf-length tresses.

Now though, now she cursed her looks, for it made her a target to these drunken men. And she knew what happened to women in the hands of bandits.

However, she refused to lie down. She would show them that she was not to be trifled with. She didn't _care _that she was magically exhausted right now, or that using any more could quite possibly kill her. She wasn't afraid of death. After all, she was his master.

* * *

Komaru Tamaki would be the first to tell you that he was a bad man. He stole, he killed, he raped women, and he loved it. This unlucky little village had done nothing other than be in their path, but by his logic, all of them were already going to hell, so why resist? And it had turned out to be a good decision. The village had a fairly large store of quality sake.

When Tobu, who had been on watch, reported a live woman running through the village, Tamaki hadn't cared overly much. If she was ugly, they would kill her and not have to deal with her shrieking at them over killing all her friends and family. And if she was pretty, well, the men had gotten a bit too excited during this raid, all of the others were dead, and they needed something to do tonight.

Imagine the surprise, when they find what night just be one of the most exotic beauties he has ever seen, sobbing in the ruins of an orphanage. Originally, they hadn't been planning on killing all of the kids, but they just wouldn't stop _crying. _For their mothers, for Kami, for someone named _Masaki-nee-chan,_ whoever the hell that was.

He dragged the woman by her hair as his group gathered up all of their weapons and the remaining alcohol. They set out barely twenty minutes later, wanting to be far away from the burning wreckage just in case a neighboring village saw the smoke and hired shinobi. The woman was pulled along behind him, hands bound in rope they kept for just this purpose.

Suddenly, just after the fire faded into the distance, the ground started to shake. All of the bandits lost their footing, few staying on their feet, the alcohol not helping their balance any.

A rumbling sound came from behind them, and Tamaki slowly turned, horror etching itself onto his face. There, heading straight for them, was a rockslide. It was too close for them to run. All they could do was watch as their deaths drew nearer.

Cruel laughter echoed eerily through the assembled crowd of men. It was the woman, her eyes glowing, a grin stretched across her face. And they all knew it was her. Somehow, someway, she was causing this. And they were all going to die.

* * *

It took nearly four days for anyone to find the site of the 'accident'. A merchant, along with his shinobi escort, a Kumo genin squad.

They cleared the path of debris, and were shocked to find someone alive in the pile of corpses. A woman. She was sent to the closest hospital, only an hour long run for a shinobi, though it would take at least three days for a civilian to get there.

It took a week for the woman to wake up, shocking the doctor's who were convinced that she would be in a coma for the rest of her life. The woman healed remarkably fast, and miraculously didn't obtain a single scar. She left the hospital the following day, against the wishes of the staff, who believed she should stay for at least another few weeks.

But she refused. And she left.

* * *

It had been over a year since the destruction of her home village, and Masaki could honestly say that she was content. She missed her village, of course, but she had gotten over it a while ago. Being more in tune with death that any other mortal in the world, her grieving process was rather quick, compared to most others. Some would even say that she was shinobi-minded, accepting it as a part of life instead of wallowing in it like civilians generally do.

She was doing rather well for herself, traveling the Elemental Nations, never staying in one place longer than a couple months before moving on. There were a lot of things she had never experienced, a novelty for someone like her, who had lived numerous lives, and she was determined to experience all of them.

She earned money through various jobs: dancing at festivals, writing books(or re-writing, as the case may be, the stories that she remembered from previous lives and tweaked to fit her new world), modeling for a magazine, hell, she was even offered a role in the sequel to the hugely popular Princess Gale movie, not that she accepted.

Masaki often wondered just how she had convinced herself that she had no need for adventure. It had always been her lifeblood, all the way back to her first life as the Boy-Who-Lived.

Currently, she was taking a breather from her life of excitement and danger by relaxing in a hot spring in the Land of Hot Water. She had never seen the need to go to one in any of her previous lives, and cursed her stupidity, because this was heavenly!

Her peace was interrupted by perverted giggling coming from the other side of the fence. She rolled her eyes. If the man didn't want to be caught, he should be quieter. He was lucky that she was the only one in the spring right now, or his ass would have been laid out by righteous hormonal fury.

"You know," she called, and the giggling abruptly stopped. "This is a mixed bath. As long as you don't molest anyone, you don't have to hide behind the fence to get a good view."

A moment of shocked silence. She could just _imagine _his incredulous face.

Masaki looked up to see a shadow passing overhead, the rustle of clothes being shed, followed by a muted splash a scant few feet from her, dousing her in the warm water. "How did you know I was there?" The man asked, both amused and wary, taking the towel Masaki handed him with a quiet thanks. Dragging her eyes over his ripped(_very_ ripped) body, she came to the conclusion of this man being a ninja.

"Your giggle is freakishly loud. You should work on that." The white-haired ninja rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. "Jiraiya." Masaki looked up at the word to see the white-haired shinobi holding out a hand for her to shake.

She placed her delicate hand in his larger, stronger one. "Masaki."

* * *

Jiraiya was confused. Normally, any woman who caught him in the act of peeping(which he now knew the reason for, how had he never noticed?) would beat him into the floor. but here was this young woman(_really _young, which was why he wasn't flirting with her seriously. Contrary to popular belief he _did _have morals) who not only did not scream, but invited him to join her.

She was interesting.

"So," he broke the silence, "what's your story?" His ninja background wouldn't allow him to be comfortable around her until he got at least the bare bones of her life's story.

Masaki stared at him through the corner of a cracked eye. "Paranoid shinobi," she muttered, opening both eyes and giving them a roll.

"How did you know I was a ninja?" Jiraiya asked, his guard up instantly.

Masaki just gave him an 'are-you-stupid?' look. "If civilians had muscles like that, women wouldn't dream of having a ninja boyfriend." Jiraiya had to concede her point. Most civilian males were rather flabby.

"You asked me what my story was, right?" Jiraiya nodded. "Well, you're a ninja. Figure it out." The Sannin couldn't help but laugh. Most would be turned off by the sass, but so long of the only people not cowed by his power or position being his sensei or his teammate, sarcasm was welcomed with open arms.

Eventually, the two decided that any longer in the water would end in them looking a good fifty years older, and got out of the pool. If Jiraiya was surprised of her inviting him into the bath with her, it was nothing on his shock when the young lady seemed to have no qualms changing in front of him.

When asked, she simply said that she saw nothing to be ashamed about in her body, adding that it was too much effort to be a prude, what with the shrieking and slapping and all. Jiraiya couldn't help but be amused by her(highly logical, in his opinion) reasons, and bemoaned the fact that Tsunade didn't share in her beliefs.

They ended up together in a bar, and Jiraiya offered to buy her drinks. The white-haired shinobi was trying to ply her with drinks so she would answer his questions, but Masaki had no problem with that. It's not like her background was had to find, or anything.

Four sheets to the wind later, and she was finally drunk enough to give semi-coherent answers. "So," Jiraiya pressed, "what do you do for a living?" Start with the easy topics, and work your way up, basic shinobi tactic.

"Uhmm," Massaki slurred, "lotsa stuff."

"Like what?"

"I pub-blish books..and...uh...dance an' shit." Obviously she was too far gone to give any in depth answers.

"Oh really? What kinds of books do you write?" being an author himself, he was honestly curious.

"Buncha ones. Like...uh….Arisa in Wonderland." Alice in Wonderland had always been a favourite, but since Alice wasn't recognized as a name here, she went with something relatively similar.

"And Twilight." Her own version, of course, she would never publish the original monstrosity. Harry had watched the first three movies reluctantly with Hermione after she had become obsessed with the series. He bailed when he saw the cover on the fourth, no way was he going to sit through that whiny bitch having a vampire baby, not even for Hermione. Freedom was worth the lecture.

That gave Death, the immortal asshole, the _brilliant_ idea of sending Harry there after he died(his first death, mind you, so he was understandably traumatized). Being reborn as Bella Swan had him just about killing himself all over again just to escape the horror. But being the stubborn person his friends always accused him of being, he set out to make the story-line unrecognizable instead.

So the book that Masaki published included a kick-ass Bella(if she did say so herself) named Saeko and the creepy-ass emo known as Edward, called Tamaki(yes she did name him after that bandit, he ranks just under Edward on her hate scale), getting his ass handed to him on a regular basis.

Jiraiya was shocked. Two of the most popular books in the Elemental Nations, were written by a not-even-twenty-year-old _girl_!? There went some of his pride as an author.

The two kept talking through the night, both revealing parts of their pasts they had never told another soul. Jiraiya was shocked to feel a weight lifted off his chest after unloading a portion of his baggage on the young girl. Only the parts that didn't pertain to the village, though. Even drunk, he was a shinobi, and a damn good one.

At around five o'clock in the morning, the bartender decided they had had enough. Truthfully, they had hit 'enough' at around midnight, and he was just starving for gossip. When it became clear that the both of them were too drunk to hold a conversation anymore, and therefore not good entertainment, he sent them upstairs to a room, where they collapsed all over each other on the single bed.

* * *

Jiraiya woke to pain. Pain and nausea. Not that odd, considering his profession, and he wracked his brain for detail on the epic battle he must have participated in. Weirdly enough, he was drawing a blank. Maybe it was Tsunade, it wouldn't have been the first time she hit him hard enough to forget mission details, and hadn't _that _been a shitstorm with the council.

He pried his eyelids apart, ignoring the stabbing pain and wave of vertigo that washed over him. Hotel room. Better than up a tree, at least. A warm weight on his chest. Perhaps Tsunade? A perverted grin stretched over his face at the thought of the busty blonde in bed with him. He knew it would never mean what he wanted it to, but it was still nice to be so close to the love of his life.

Lifting his head to peer down at his teammate, he opened his mouth to tease her, before snapping it shut. Tsunade didn't have black hair. Suddenly, the situation was a lot less funny, and Jiraiya was a lot less calm. He _never _slept in the same bed as woman. Had sex with them on a bed, yes, but he always left after he was done. His body stiffened and he started to frantically search for a way out.

It's not that he was concerned about her being an enemy, the muscles on her arm, while present, were not as well defined as they would be in a kunoichi. That actually just made it worse. Civilian women were always looking to rope a shinobi into a committed relationship. Usually not even because of love, but to be arm candy for them to brag to their friends. That would not happen to him!

To his horror, the woman on his chest started to stir. NO NO NO NO! Beautiful green eyes fluttered open. OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT! Here it comes. She's going to coo like an idiot, and start naming their future children. Or worse, she could be a screamer. Demanding he marry her for allegedly taking innocence that was given away long before he met her.

"Why the hell are you in my bed?" It took a few minutes for the words to penetrate his panicked mind, but when they did, he just stared at her in confusion. What? And while he was being confused…..they both still had their clothes on.

"Uh…" Jiraiya mentally stabbed himself for sounding like an idiot.

"Well, whatever," the beautiful green-eyed woman shrugged off, gracefully climbing out of the bed. "Not like we had sex, so no harm done."

"Wait," Jiraiya interrupted, confused. "We didn't have sex?" Green-eyes just cocked an amused eyebrow.

She looked down, as if checking for something. "Hmm nope. Still a virgin." Those mesmerising eyes met his, twinkling impishly, and memories of the previous day came back.

"Masaki." Oh thank Kami he didn't sleep with his new friend. That would have made things pretty damn awkward.

Someone rapped loudly on the door, and Jiraiya and Masaki flinched. What the hell did they drink last night? "Customers? We request that you either pay or vacate this room," a feminine voice called, sounding bored. Her footsteps faded as she walked away to aggravate someone else's hangover.

The two just stared at each other for a minute before Masaki groaned and collapsed on the bed, her forehead colliding harshly with Jiraiya's hard packed abdomen. "...ow." She pouted as the Toad Sennin laughed at her. "Asshole."

They were contemplating going back to sleep, when the woman came back. "Customers!" She screeched, both winced as alarm bells started blaring in their heads. Masaki sighed, and circulated her mag-_chakra_, she reminded herself, _it's called chakra now._ She circulated her chakra through her bloodstream, burning off the alcohol.

"Alright!" She chirped, the the horror of Jiraiya. "Let's go pay the banshee lady!"

""Why.." Jiraiya whined pitifully. "Why are you not in pain anymore?!" Masaki just shot him an amused grin before stalking out of the room, confident that he would follow. And follow he did, with much complaining of course.

After paying(and a sweet smile from the owner, as if she _hadn't _just tried to blow their ears out) the two new friends set out to find something interesting to do. Eventually they just settled down in the back of a bookstore, lounging in overstuffed bean bag chairs, critiquing each other's works.

"The reason women hate Icha Icha is that it sets mens' expectations too high, and makes them feel like they're inadequate. How can they compete, when the opposition is flawlessly beautiful, does nothing but have sex day in and day out, and has Double-E breasts?"

"Twilight was monumentally popular, and with good reason, but it needs more romance to keep the teenage girl coming back. As it is, most of your fanbase consists of teenage boys interested in the thought of a girl being able to kick the ass of a vampire, and tween girls who haven't quite gotten out of that sci-fi faze. You need to add a love interest for Saeko(Bella), enough to keep the interest of females, but not enough to turn off males. Have fun with that one."

Both walked away from that feeling satisfied, with thoughts for their next books swirling in their heads.

* * *

They spent a whole week together, just talking and laughing, Masaki even accompanied Jiraiya on his 'research', covering his mouth with a roll of her eyes when his giggling would have given them away.

That whole time, Jiraiya was contemplating how to tell her he had to leave. Really, he was supposed to have moved out days ago, he imagined his informant in Kumo was getting restless. He thought of asking her to move to Konoha, so they could meet whenever he passed through, but decided against it. She had told him that she wanted to travel for at least a few more years.

He slowly made his way back to the hotel room after his trip to the convenience store. They had decided to continue sharing a room, seeing as neither of them were particularly prudish, and Masaki had asked him to get her a cold drink since she was feeling hot.

Opening the door, he was greeted by the sight of his friend splayed on the bed, panting and red-faced. Oddly enough, not one dirty joke came to mind. He handed her the drink, and she clumsily opened it, downing the contents, spilling half of it on her chest.

"Goddamnit…." he heard her mutter. "Not now." She pauses to take a few more gasping breaths. "Shit." With that she leapt off the bed, and flung herself out the open window. Jiraiya's eyes widened in horror. Did Masaki just kill herself? A look outside confirmed that no, she was very much alive, but running into the trees. The hotel was located right at the edge of the village, so the only thing in that direction for at least three days was forest.

Following her, he found her leaning against a tree a good twenty miles from the village(Kami she was fast!). Looking him in the eyes, she mouthed 'Sorry." And released.

Jiraiya was floored by the waves of raw power flowing off of Masaki's small frame. By the sheer magnitude of power being expelled, he knew that had she done this in the village, most of the civilians would have died from shock. He, being a strong shinobi in his own right, was barely hanging on. Then it stopped, and Jiraiya breathed a sigh of relief, until he saw Masaki crumble to the ground.

"Shit!" he yelled, scooping her up and sprinted back to the hotel. She had a lot of explaining to do.

* * *

The young woman tried not to squirm as the older male stared at her, awaiting an answer to his unasked question. She had only been awake for less than a minute, but Jiraiya seemed to have no intention of waiting.

Masaki heaved a heavy sigh, and gave in. "I have a kekkai genkai...of sorts." A white eyebrow shot into an equally white hairline. "I say 'of sorts' because, well, as far as I can tell bloodline limits have set parameters, what they can do and what they can't, but mine doesn't really have any boundaries. I can levitate an object just as easily as I can make water out of thin air. Teleporting is simple, and I can tear a mind to shreds with a thought. If I chose to, I could make someone stand before an enemy and spill every one of their secrets, and not remember doing it. I could-"

She cut off at the look on Jiraiya's face. Shuttered, cold, not a hint of anything other than a hardened soldier in those diamond hard eyes. Masaki bit her lip. He was going to reject her, he thought she was a freak. Evidently, not even four long and full lifetimes had erased all of her first childhood with the Dursleys.

"I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly. She unfolded herself from her protective huddle on the bed, and picked up her duffel bag. It was always packed, and contained all of her worldly possessions. She had just opened the door when a muscular, tan arm banded around her stomach and hauled her back inside. Jiraiya kicked the door shut as he turned around and plopped her back on the bed.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Masaki swallowed at the dark voice he used. "I...I was leaving."

"I can see that. Why?" He wasn't going to let this go.

"Well, you didn't want me here anymore, so…"

Jiraiya looked surprised. "What gave you that idea?"

Masaki's eyes shot up from where she was staring at the floor. "But you...you kinda shut down there, last time someone did that…" The memory was fresh, even though it had happened in her third life, at least two hundred years ago from her perspective.

_Flashback:_

_Harry, though his name was Galen in this life, was lying lazily on his bed, fire dancing over his raised knuckles. He stared mesmerized as the beautiful red flames danced over his flesh harmlessly, with only a slight tickling feeling. Magic never ceased to amaze him. With a thought, he changed the flame to blue, then purple, then black, and let out a joy filled laugh._

_He had turned seven years old today. There had been a party earlier, with all of his second grade class invited. A cake shaped like a soccer ball, balloons with his name on them, a table piled high with presents from thirty-two kids. Thirty-two very loud kids. Galen himself was very quiet, being mentally much older than his peers. His mother jokingly called him an old soul._

_Speaking of his mother…_

"_Galen sweetie," she called opening the door without knocking. "Your father and I haven't given you OH MY GOD GALEN PUT THAT FIRE OUT!" He did, eyes wide with panic. She wasn't supposed to find out. Ever. His mother was very religious, and believed any form of magic to be work of the devil. When Galen had innocently asked for a magician to be at his party instead of a clown, she had screeched for hours about 'those vile satanists!'. _

"_Galen," her voice wavered with uncertainty, "what was that?" _

_He hoped against hope that she would be understanding. That she loved him enough to look past her blind hatred for things she didn't understand. _

_His voice was small when he whispered, "Magic."_

_The woman's face turned to granite, not a single emotion leaked through the hard stone. Her eyes lost all light, and if she hadn't been breathing, Galen would have thought her dead. "Mom-"_

_She cut him off harshly. "Don't call me that you freak." Galen's heart shattered into a thousand pieces. " Why the hell were you even born? No son of mine would be this...unnatural," she spat viciously, taking sick joy in his crushed expression. "Get out of my house demon. Or I will call the priest to do it for you."_

_With that she threw a small box on the ground and stomped on it, before storming out of the room. Galen stared at his crushed birthday present, the cheerful wrapping paper mocking him, as tears streamed down his face._

_Flashback End:_

"The last person what?" Jiraiya asked, breaking her out of her daze.

"She...she called me a freak and a demon. And told me that I shouldn't have been born."

Jiraiya's face contorted in rage. "And why would she say that?"

Masaki looked at him timidly. "Because of this." She held out cupped palm, and in the time it took Jiraya to blink there was a roaring fire in the palm of her hand. It started red, then turned green, then yellow, grey, pink, white, she cycled through all of the colours she knew in her agitation.

Jiraiya stared at the flame dancing on her palm in awe. "Oh, I'm definitely taking you back to Konoha now."

Masaki stared at him like he had grown at least eight more heads. "What? Why? Why would you want something as freakish as this in your home village?"

Jiraiya's expression turned thunderous. "Whoever told you that you were a freak was a damn liar. With a bloodline like this, I doubt even Kiri would turn you away." He flopped gracelessly onto the bed beside her. "That never really answered my question though." He ignored her mumble that he never asked a question. "What was that about in the woods?"

"Um...you know how normal chakra works?" He gave her an amused look, and she flushed. "Yeah, stupid question. Anyway, normally your chakra only grows when you deplete your chakra pool, and then only to a certain point before stopping altogether. Mine doesn't do that. My reserves keep on filling past the point my body can handle, and I have to expel it before it forces my organs to shut down. The only con to doing it like that is that I have to wait a few days for my stores to get up to par again before I can use any chakra, otherwise I could die of chakra exhaustion."

Jiraiya took a moment to digest this. "So, why do it in the woods? Why not just do it here?"

"You saw what it was like. If a civilian, or even a shinobi below jonin level, saw that, they would probably die of shock. The first time I had to do this, I was six, and I put four people into comas. And I was maybe a tenth of this strong then."

They lay in silence for a while, and Jiraiya took the time to simply understand the gravity of what he was telling him. If any village were to catch wind of her, she would be captured immediately and used for breeding stock. The skills she told him about were nothing less than extraordinary, and he knew that there was more she wasn't telling him yet.

Not even Konoha, as much as he loved his village, would be above kidnapping her and selling her off to the highest bidder to pop out a hundred brats. And with the situation being what it was, it would probably end up being their beloved Uchiha prince, at least eventually, the brat was still only eleven and emotionally scarred.

How could he convince her to come willingly, though? If she came with him, she would be under his protection, and being their main source of information on the happenings of the Elemental Nations, they would be less inclined to mess with someone with his backing.

He opened his mouth to just bluntly tell her to grab her bag because they were going back to his village, but she interrupted him. "Not right now."

"...what?"

"I'll come back with you to your village eventually, just not right now. Give me a year, to finish up everything on my bucket list, and I'll let you drag me there without a fuss." He gave her an incredulous look. "Your face was an open book." Now he was just affronted. Shinobi were not open books! Their books were firmly closed, bound, locked, and sealed with blood mixed ink. He would forever deny that he was pouting.

"Now come on," she jumped to her feet, hauling him up as she went. "I'm hungry,and there's a sushi bar down the road."

* * *

**Oh my god that took forever to write! I spent like two weeks on it.**


	2. Chapter 2

I am honestly surprised that only one person suggested Gai, he was one of the ones I considered first. He really doesn't get enough love.

Also, she will not be paired with any of the Rookie 12. Just no. They are eleven, and she is seventeen. Six years may not be too much of an age difference, but I'm not going to wait while they go through puberty to give Masaki a love interest.

* * *

You are an idiot. First thought of the morning. Random, derogatory, and completely true. She was an idiot.

She was also smarter than this. Giving a man she barely knew power over her, what the hell was she thinking? She wasn't a teenage boy starved for affection anymore, she should know better by now.

Never have children. You're idiocy shall not pass on to the next generation.

It was like this every time she released her chakra. In the back of her mind she knew that she was helpless and vulnerable, and her instincts reacted accordingly, making her emotional and needy. Her mind basically receded back to Harry, and not even older, confident Harry. Teenage Harry. Full of angst and self-pity and so emotionally stunted to seek approval for anything from anybody.

It was pathetic.

Maybe it would have been better if she detached herself again. She did that in her last life, as Liam the son of an Irish pub owner, just cut herself off from the world and her emotions. In the end she died miserable and alone. Not even his sister, his precious baby sister who used to follow Liam around like a little duckling when they were kids, wanted anything to do with him.

And it's not like he could blame her, with how he acted. Emotionless and detached, like he didn't care about what happened to any of them or the rest of the world. When they died, he wouldn't join them. He would just start over as an infant somewhere else, with a different name and no reason to have any attachments to people he shouldn't know even existed. So why bother?

He learned something from that life of silence and loneliness. Whatever happened to his body, his soul was the same. And he was, by nature, someone who needed companionship.

Sure his loved ones would die someday, and he wouldn't be able to follow, but why should that stop him from making the best of life anyways. His parents, all of them, would want him to live happily, every one of his friends, too.

He was powerful, and had more knowledge and experience than any other human could ever dream of. Why sit around on his ass and watch the world go by? So when Liam died at forty-five after getting hit by a double decker bus, he wasn't about to waste this life away too.

Developing ties to the other children in the orphanage, seeing the kind old matron as a new mother, making friends with the entire tranquil village, and mourning their deaths. Travelling this new land and swearing to herself to do everything she wrote on a scrap piece of paper while she was drunk.

She felt and she lived like every day was her last because she knew better than anybody how fragile life really was.

And now it was over because she couldn't keep her damn Harry tendencies in check during a moment of weakness. Why couldn't Bella have come out instead and started mouthing off at everything that moved, she would have preferred that.

IDIOT!

She wanted to scream, and pull her hair, and bang her head against the wall but she restrained herself. That would wake Jiraiya, who was snoring happily next to her on the bed, and she wasn't sure how she was going to deal with him yet.

First option, she goes with him to his village, and hopes for the best. Although, even the best in this situation was not good. Second option, she runs. Right now, pick up her bag, pay for the room at the front desk(she's already running away, she's not gonna leave him with the bill), and book it. Hide somewhere for a while. No good, he'd find her in a week, he was a fucking ninja! Third option…..

She sighed softly as she opened her eyes, already hating herself for what she was about to do.

Slowly, she got off the bed, being careful not to wake Jiraya. That was the last thing she

needed right now. Gently, Masaki laid her hands on his temples. When she was younger and less experienced, this had required eye contact. Now it made it marginally easier, but was largely unnecessary.

She took a deep breath and said, more out of nostalgia than any real need to do so, "Obliviate."

* * *

When Jiraiya finally woke up, some three hours later, he was disoriented. His head was pounding like three Iwa nins were practising tap dancing on it, and he couldn't remember any of last night. Too much alcohol, probably, but something about it felt strange. Like where there was usually just a haze of words and colors that would sort themselves out eventually, there was nothing but a void.

He had come back from the store with Masaki's drink, gave it to her, and then...he couldn't remember anything past opening the door. That was odd, since he normally remembers at least getting to the bar.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention, and he opened his eyes, rolling over to look. Masaki came in with a happy smile and a take-out bag of dango in her hands. To a lesser man(or at least a lesser trained man), this wouldn't set off any alarms, but it did to Jiraiya. Her smile looked so fake. Like plastic. He had to admit, she was a good actor, but he could tell that something was wrong.

After a moments hesitation, he smiled back. He would leave it for now, and if she wanted to tell him, she would.

"Good morning sunshine!" she chirped. "Last day in the village, so we better make it count!" That startled Jiraiya. Had he told her he was leaving when he was drunk? That must have been it, and he couldn't help but be a little relieved that he didn't remember the conversation.

"Alright then," he heaved himself out of bed, throwing on clothes in a split second. "What are we doing today, if it's so special?" That grin should not have frightened him. He was a grown ass man, damn it! Tiny females did not frighten him! He resolutely ignored the voice in the back of his head saying that he feared Tsunade. It wasn't fear. It was a healthy respect for her abilities, that was all.

Ignorant of Jiraiya's internal stint with extreme denial, Masaki said, "We are going to let the bitch running this inn know exactly how we feel about her lovely wake up calls when we wwe hungover."

….Jiraiya decided that it was okay to be afraid of females, just a little bit. If he had looked back as he walked out the door(he was not fleeing. This was a strategic retreat), he would have seen her smile turn sad, and her eyes fill with guilt.

She knew it had to be done, but it didn't make her hate herself any less.

* * *

They stood in front of the inn that they had been staying in, admiring their work. It was now pink. Not soft pink or baby pink, no, hot pink, eye-searing pink, I-want-to-gouge-out-my eyes-with-a-spoon-just-to-stop-the-pain pink. And it was beautiful, if they did say so themselves. The greatest prank ever pulled, in the history of the Elemental Nations.

(Far away, in Konoha, a certain ten-year-old blonde froze where he was preparing to pour glue on some mean old lady's cat. He felt somehow insulted.)

For while the outside was pink, the inside was a mash of psychedelic colors, on the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the patrons. Best of all, none of them noticed while it was being done, too invested in their early morning coffee to be much more than incoherent zombies.

A scream rent the air, and the two friends grinned at each other. It seems they finally noticed. The occupants rushed outside, clearly not wanting to remain in the establishment that caused them to be covered in paint. Following them, begging them to come back, was the owner. A mean cow of a lady, severely overweight, her multiple chins jiggled as she ran after her former customers. The hideous view was marred, however, by the blue paint she was covered in, as well as the glitter. Her hair had been shaved down the sides, and the remaining parts gelled up into an orange mohawk.

She caught sight of them, and her beady little eyes narrowed in hate. She knew that it was them, somehow. Masaki and Jiraiya, being smart people, turned tail and ran.

Their next visit to the village, they would smile proudly at their pictures posted on the front window of the inn, stating that they were banned for life.

* * *

They went their separate ways, but promised to keep in touch. It was a little hard to work it out, seeing as both of them were constantly on the move, but they did it. Masaki would send letters to his home in Konoha, which would be forwarded with the rest of his mail(she assumed that 'forwarded' meant that they would be picked up by those summons he mentioned once in passing). From there, he would send letters to a small post office in a small town in Oni, where a friend she had made during her travels would do the same(actually she would just summon them, but he didn't need to know that). Not perfect, but workable.

She waved him off as he started towards Kumo, keeping her smile in place until he faded into the distance. She still hated herself, but it was a comforting thought that he wouldn't blame her for doing it if he ever found out. He would have done the same, and he would know it.

She hoped.

Sighing, she turned and headed off to Taki. She had many things on her bucket list, and only one lifetime to do them.

* * *

Dear Jiraiya,

Is it weird that I miss you already? Because I do, a lot, and I saw you just two weeks ago.

Taki was...not as fun as I thought it would be. But I had a book signing so sadly I couldn't just leave. Not very fond of the Daimyo either, but that may have something to do with him asking me to join his harem. Ugh, he was a total dick about it too. Didn't even have the decency to wait until the crowd was gone, just blurted it out. "Onna, I desire you, join my harem." Like it was such a huge honor, and I should be thrilled that a man almost four times my age wanted me. There was a bunch of little kids there too, and then their mother's had to explain to them what a harem was.

I managed to talk my way out of it, thank Kami. "I apologize, my lord, but I do not believe I am worthy of such an honor," thankfully he was stupid enough to buy that. The next time I see him I swear to Kami I'll kick him in the balls, Daimyo or not.

Anyway, the next Twilight book isn't flowing like I want it to. I'm thinking of working on a novella while I'm in writers block. Maybe a tear-jerker this time? What do you think?

Well, either way, I'm about ready to murder the Daimyo, but I will restrain myself. I don't think even you could cover for me if I did that.

I almost feel bad for the next asshole who comes on to me, I'm not in the mood to put up with it.

Contemplating murder,

Masaki

Jiraiya shook his head in bemusement. Only Masaki would speak(write?) about the assaulting an important political figure without a care in the world. He blanched when he realised something: she might actually do it! He learned days after meeting Masaki to never put anything past her.

In the short time he had known her, Jiraiya had come to the conclusion that Masaki was, completely and totally, batshit insane.

* * *

Masaki was bored out of her mind. There was nothing interesting going on today, and she couldn't decide what to cross off her list, so she was just slouched over a table in a small cafe in Kusa, staring dejectedly at the creased slip of paper.

She picked up her pencil, held it high above the paper, and dropped it point down. It landed on number forty-one, and she sighed. She couldn't do that one, there wasn't any available goats, and radishes were out of season. Trying again, it landed on number eight. The grin that split her face was nothing short of terrifying.

Now this, she could work with.

* * *

The party was in full swing, and the young heir of the Kusanagi family was smirking slightly from his place against the wall. This was a party in his honor, and as such all the people here came to see him. Including all the pretty young daughters of his family's business associates.

Rich, genteel girls were always so much more fun to play with in his opinion. Luring them to bed was more work than the common town girls he usually went for, but it made the conquest all the sweeter. Their reactions when they found out he wasn't planning on marrying them were especially funny, and they couldn't even run to their daddy's since doing so would prove that they were no longer pure. In other words, no longer prime breeding stock.

He was sweeping the room for his newest plaything, when he saw her. Wearing nothing but a beaded strip of red cloth around her breasts, and a floor length skirt of the same color with slits up the sides, flashing creamy thigh every time she moved, she stood out from the rest of the conservative girls in the ballroom.

Thick ebony hair was held back by a simple braid, though he imagined it would fall to her calves when loose. Her face was hidden by a jeweled green mask, so he couldn't tell what color her eyes were, but he was confident that they would be as beautiful as the rest of her.

She moved fluidly up to the raised platform, whispering in the ear of the drummer that had been hired for the event. It struck him that she must have been the dancer his father had found, and he had never loved the man more than at that moment.

An errant thought whispered that she must be flexible, as a dancer, and a lecherous smirk drifted onto his face. He would have her tonight.

Then she started to move, and he found that he couldn't take his eyes away. She looked so beautiful, swaying with the rapid beat of the drum. It seemed like an eternity had passed, though it could only have been a few minutes at the most as the same song was still playing, when she stopped. And smirked. A shiver ran down his spine at the almost cruel expression. Then she started to laugh. And the room exploded in red.

It was on the floor, the walls, some even made it's way up to the ceiling, and it dripped slowly from the crystal chandelier. The party goers looked on in horror, until: "EW EW EW! It's all over me!."

Pandemonium broke out.

"Ugh it's sticky."

"It's everywhere!"

"MY DRESS!"

The girls, and some of the guys, started to desperately try to scrub the paint out of their clothes, as the rest just stood frozen in shock.

Nobody noticed as a scantily clad woman jumped out the window and into the night, cackling like a maniac.

Number eight: Crash a snobby rich-people party like a Boss.

Check.

* * *

Masaki,

Please don't do anything too stupid. I know better than to tell you not to do anything illegal, so just try not to get caught.

Seriously. Do. Not. Get. Caught. I won't be always be able to bail you out, especially if you pull another stunt like the one at that rich family's party in Kusa. I can practically see your fake innocent face, so stop it.

Expecting to hear news of your incarceration soon,

Jiraya

* * *

The white haired Sannin couldn't help but laugh as he read the newest letter from Masaki, as he was sitting in a seedy hotel, waiting on an informant.

Jiraiya,

Shut up. I hate you. Asshole. I am not stupid.

Masaki.

He could just imagine her pouting face as she flipped him off.

But his mind turned back to business when there came a knock at the door. His informant was here, and he needed to find out about this Akatsuki he had been hearing rumors about.

* * *

Number Thirteen: Introduce halloween to the Elemental Nations.

People were staring at her in fear. Why? She had no idea. You would think they had never seen a zombie bride before.

She was quite proud of her make-up capabilities, she hadn't use a drop of chakra to make this come together, and she looked amazing.

Skin peeling and rotting, white dress dirty and blood stained, hair a rats nest covered in dirt and what some would swear looked like human flesh, it was epic, and she was so proud of herself.

Stumbling around the small town in Kusa, moaning incoherently and taking fake swipes at people, she hadn't had so much fun in months!

Until the villagers seemed to have gathered their courage and came charging at her with pitchforks and torches. She couldn't help but compare it to witch hunts as she faded into mist, thoroughly terrifying the people who had been trying to behead her.

Check.

* * *

Masaki,

There's a rumor going around, about a zombie woman stalking a particular town. Why? Just why? They're going crazy, half of them have already packed up and moved out. Shinobi have been called in from three separate villages to investigate. Including Konoha.

On the somewhat bright side, one particular kunoichi from T&amp;I wants to meet you. Or rather, the 'badass zombie bitch who scared the piss out of the civvies'. Somehow I think you two would get along, and pray for the safety of the world if you ever do meet.

Fearing the safety of the general populace,

Jiraiya

Masaki laughed until her stomach cramped at Jiraiya's latest letter. So she had a fan, huh? Sounded like fun. She'd have to introduce herself someday.

Three countries away, Jiraiya shivered as a sense of foreboding washed over him. Why did he feel as if the end of the world was approaching?

Deep in the bowels of Konoha's Torture and Interrogation department, Mitarashi Anko felt excited. Her joy was broadcasted to the rest of the building via the pained/terrified screams of her newest victim.

Yamanaka Inoichi stared for a moment at a resigned Morino Ibiki. "You trained her too well."

"I know. She honestly scares me sometimes."

* * *

Hmmmm. What to do now…..

Laying on her hotel bed with her hands behind her head, Masaki heaved a sigh as she contemplated what to do. She had finished writing New Moon a few days ago, and she wasn't interested in starting Eclipse just yet. There was no dancing or singing jobs to be had for at least the next few days. Simply put, she was bored out of her mind.

Finally giving in, she pulled out her list and a pencil, and once again used her highly scientific way of choosing a number. Twenty-one. She stared.

Grabbing her bag, she headed out the door, intent on the nearest bar. She wasn't nearly drunk enough to do that one without laughing in the middle of it. So logically that meant it was time to get shit-faced.

* * *

Masaki grinned ferally as she catches sight of her victims; a small family of four out for an afternoon picnic. They come up to a simple rope bridge with wooden planks, built overtop of a merrily bubbling stream. Such an idyllic scene-

"You shall not pass!" The voice of a young woman, thrown deep, echoed around the now silent party. They stare incredulously at the sight before them. An obviously young woman, dressed in strange robes and with a fake grey beard attached to her face, stood in the middle of the bridge, a staff planted firmly in front of her feet.

"Kaa-chan who's that?"

"Look away sweetie."

The youngest of the family, a tiny girl no older than five with her black hair in pigtails, runs forward with a grin.

The woman/old man lets out a girly screech. "AAAHHH! A Balrog!" And throws herself over the edge of the bridge.

The family blinks as one.

The father turns to look at his wife. "Time to go home, don't you think?"

"Oh yes definitely."

Number Twenty-one: Cosplay as Gandalf

Check

* * *

"-so I said to the guy, 'I'm sorry sir, but is that any way to treat lady?' And then he was all like-"

Please shut up. The mantra had been repeating itself for over an hour, and the guy had yet to comply. He had just about used up all of her ungodly amount of patience. She was minutes away from snapping.

"-wild party, you know? Oh, no you wouldn't know, you're new here. Anyway, it was-"

Make that seconds.

"-just wanted to buy some leeks, right? So I took her hand, because it was a woman what harm could she possibly do to me, a man, and let her-"

Did he just call women weak? She was pretty sure he did. Does he or does he not live in a world where there are female ninja who could kick him in the balls so hard that they would fly out the top of his head?

"-snow cones, because everyone loves a good snow cone, so I went and bought one and you wouldn't believe who was behind the counter. It was my buddy Souta! So then I-"

It didn't help that she had just released her chakra not even an hour ago. She was feeling weak and tired and frankly the sooner she got out of this town the better. The woods always felt safer after that(her home village and that time with Jiraiya notwithstanding. Both of them felt safe enough to stick around). The man had nothing to do with it. At all.

Yeah right.

"-down the river in a crappy canoe. Seriously the damn thing was leaking everywhere and she was screaming her head off. So I tried to patch it up with-"

Masaki stood up so fast her tea, which had been cold for over an hour, spilled over the table and all over the annoying man's lap. "Sorry," she really wasn't, "I have to go now."

He spluttered for a minute. "But what about the rest of my story?!"

Yeah, she thought, your 'super funny story that'll only take a minute, I promise!' that ended up taking two and a half hours of my life that I'll never get back. "I'll have to take a rain check."

She ran out of that building like the hounds of hell and/or Fluffy the man-eating cerberus was on her heels. Free at last!

Taking a seat at another cafe(across town, in a shady corner, wearing a hat because she was taking no chances of that insufferable jackass finding her again) she settled down to write a letter to Jiraiya. She needed to vent.

Dear Jiraiya,

If I asked you to kill someone for me, would you do it? I swear to Kami the entirety of Nami would probably thank you on their knees. No joke.

To be honest, Nami isn't in the best state right now, regardless of annoying assholes. The owner of the cafe I was in practically wept with joy when I walked in and ordered something. Even more so when he saw it was the correct amount.

There are children starving to death on street corners, yet no one spares them a second glance. They can't really, since they're all in the same state.

From what I've overheard, it all seems to point back to a man named Gato. He has his men running around the town, threatening people. For what, I can't possibly imagine. Nobody has anything worthwhile left to give.

All of their hope rests on Tazuna, a bridge builder, finishing a bridge that will stretch to the mainland. Poor man, it's only been by sheer luck that he's survived thus far, with all of the assassins Gato sends after him almost daily. He should be fine now, though. Rumor has it he's gone to Konoha to hire a shinobi guard.

Anyway, back on track, I was just sitting there, minding my own business, when this man walks up to my table and sits down. I figured he must have been one of Gato's men, seeing as he actually looked a healthy weight, and his clothes were better than the rage the rest of the villagers were wearing.

In all honesty, he was fairly attractive.. Dark red hair, black eyes, and a beautiful dragon tattoo covering the right side of his face, from forehead to chin. Looks can't make up for personality though, it seems.

He just refused to stop talking. I tried to be polite and gently shut the conversation down multiple times, but he just kept going. And going. And going. Finally I just stormed out of there, so I'm gonna try to skip town before he manages to track me down.

Would be very grateful if you would purge the world of the most annoying asshole to ever exist,

Masaki

She quickly packed up her supplies and left the cafe, paying for her tea on the way out. Now, should she find the man who ferried her across on the way in, or find some alternative? As she was thinking about this, she was grabbed from behind, and pulled into an alley. Cliche much? Before she could struggle a cloth was laid over her face. It smelled sweet.

Chloroform, her rapidly fogging mind supplied.

And the world went black.

* * *

Consciousness came slowly, and with much confusion. Harry was confused, just where exactly was he? But that wasn't his name. His name was Galen, wasn't it? No, he was certain his name was Liam, and he had promised to play with his sister today, so he had to get up.

Bella was an only child though. But Galen was sure that he had two brothers. Both of Harry's parents were murdered by Voldemort when he was a year old, so there was no way he had any siblings.

Who was Voldemort? An evil wizard. But wizards aren't real. What's a wizard, is it anything like a shinobi? What in Merlin's name is a shinobi? That's like a ninja, I think, I saw it on T.V. once. Never mind that, magic isn't real, and even if it was, all forms of sorcery is the work of the devil, my mother told me so. But I never knew my mother, I was dropped in front of the orphanage. I would have preferred an orphanage over my aunt and uncle's house. But I've never even been to an orphanage, and I only visit my aunt and uncle during Christmas, with my parents and my brothers.

Harry/Galen/Masaki/Bella/Liam groaned in pain. It felt like his/her head was splitting open.

"She's waking up!"

Another cloth of sweet smelling chemicals was pressed over her/his face, and the voices were silenced.

* * *

Meanwhile:

"Kakashi-sensei, are we there yet?!"

"Not yet, Naruto. We still have a few more hours to go."

"Tired, Dobe?"

"Shut it, Teme!"

…...our heroes slowly move towards liberating a country.

"Hey Sakura-chan! When we get back, wanna go get ra-"

"Shut up, Naruto-baka!"

"Shouldn't you stop her? She's stomping on his head so hard the ground is cratering."

*perverted giggle*

…...mighty heroes.

* * *

Okay, so I read this chapter again, and I was good with most of it, until I realized something. Her personality didn't really match up with the first chapter. Then I realized that I wrote her leaning more towards one of my other stories main character's personality. Coincidentally, another fem!Harry one, but this one is actually in the HP universe.

On another note I almost fainted in blissful shock when I got a review from Temestas D. Uzu. TEMPESTAS D. UZU! She is seriously in my top two favourite authors right now, right next to Araciel(who I am slightly pissed with for never updating any of the stories I like. Seriously, no more Sunny April, or Wintertide, or Queen of the Bramble Court. Not Happy.) I literally screamed like a JB fangirl(so ashamed) when the last update for the Soldier Prompt series came out. Then my dad came in and asked what was wrong, so I told him and he was like 'Oh you're reading that big-eyes shit(what he calls anime/manga, he's under the impression it's all porn) again?' and left.

Um, yeah, if you can't tell I'm really hyper today. I ate a whole bag of dollar store Jolly Ranchers by myself over the last hour, so yeah. That.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so…..um. This is not zombieapocolypse696(why the hell did she choose such a freaking long-ass name!). This is her friend April. Zombie - you know what, fuck it, Cheyenne is in the hospital right now. A few months ago she was in a car accident and was in a coma for two weeks. She woke up last month, and is currently going through physical therapy. She asked me to post this, and so here I am! Anyway, the jist is she's putting all of her stories up for adoption, because she doesn't know when she'll be able to work on them and feels bad for making people wait so long.**

**So...send her a PM if you want any of them, she'll be screening them herself once I sneak her phone into her room(her dad banned electronics, paranoid ass thinks they'll get stolen or something, hence why I'm posting this, because I highly doubt she'd be able to hide a laptop as easily as a phone). Just none of that 'How dare you abandon this story!' bull that I sometimes see in reviews. Because I will not hesitate to track you down and shave your head.**

**Thanks.**


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